Handed Over
by Arayan
Summary: AU - MK - What if a deal was made, between Miroku's father and Naraku at conceiving of the air rip? Naraku would remove the kazanna from his hand for one generation, his, if he would swear the undying loyalty of his next, last, and only child to Naraku..
1. A Lovely Night

Handed over 

A Lovely Night 

Arayan 

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Disclaimer: I don't own any characters originally created by Rumiko Takahashi in the Inuyasha manga/anime.

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The houshi cursed, loudly. All he had wanted was one simple night out on the village with that one last little innocent... But no, there were obviously more sinister creatures out that night than himself. Ones who would not wish him to fulfill his greatest desires, and pleasures. What was wrong with this world? He allowed a frustrated growl to easily escape from the weak confines of kiss-sober lips. Was there something so wrong with wanting women that he must be punished so for following through with the God's wishes? After all, was that not what they were? To have sex and create children? Ah, but if the world were this way he'd live as a king! A mighty and powerful king, one whose reign was neither just nor fair, but he would love himself nonetheless! 

Ah, but life was not so! Not so! With a sudden glimpse of a mental image he could picture just what he was missing out on that night and perhaps forever more. For what good was a cursed man to any woman? However...if she were to simply...not know? It could...slip...his mind. All he needed was one fruitful night of love...making, and the world could be his. Again. For that was the deal. 

It, as any other night, had been a very typical night where he had taken the chance to appear to be his usual, very sexy and desirable, self. And was he anybody to contradict the God's wishes? Especially after they'd granted him a body like the one he had? Hah! And so he had approached the beauty of one whose looks might rival his own had they been translated into a male version of this most definitely female goddess. 

As fates might have it, and he cursed again, for the Gods were out to get him tonight, the young, strangely mystical vixen had approached with an all too assured sway of her satisfying hips. How did such a...potential opportunity turn so foul? he sulked bitterly to himself. After all, life was just not fair. Never was and never would be again. 

Stashing a fierce glare in the opposite corner of the room as he stalked, pacing back and forth, the houshi determined how and when to deliver his decision, knowing full well that he would accept. The fiery mistress, had, after all his tempting thoughts, decided to contradict his innermost desires and, at the most foreboding possible moment that could have been chosen, revealed 'her true form.' 

A second after his first flirtatious advance towards her and the moment between the first and second kiss of what had appeared to be a promising evening, she had pulled back, as if ashamed. Hah, right. Well...actually...it might be understandable, granted his good looks, charm, and downright appraisable skill in the 'arts.' If only something had not seemed more than a couple degrees askew. With some natural born talent for guessing at deeper meanings, he could only envision a crisis approaching. 

Of course, while his imagination provided no worse than a simple few hours, preferably less, without his nightly session before he could find another suitable temple to bless, a much more sinister mind had been at work, the wheels of which clashed together their crudely bent spikes, rusted over and jagged in more places than a few as a devious plan was released from the lowest realms of high hell. 

Appearing instantaneously before him, a malicious smirk graced the face that had once held lovely, seductive eyes, only to bare sickle-shaped, poison-tinted fangs, ready to tear his neck out if the houshi would not comply with this shapechanger's wishes as he might to a most arduous night of sex. "Houshi," he drawled, "I knew I'd find you here tonight." The light teasing lilt in the voice convinced tremors to take up permanent residence, at least for this eternity, throughout his entire body, from once eager lips to bare free toes. Since when did that phrase have negative connotations? 

A painfully hard sense of arousal overwhelmed him, and yet he was held immobile, as the butterfly whose wings and antennae had been pinned solidly in place and most ready for manipulation. Arousal?! He would have jumped if he could. No way in hell was this bastard inflicting any such feel upon him. The twisted, warped little mind grinned maliciously once more, it was wonders what a little dark 'magic' might do in occasions such as these. 

The red eyed character, a jovial man of sorts by all means...well, as long as he got his way that is, twisted a finger and traced it, in a thin, begging trail from his left to right canine. The marks to prove the teeth's descent into flesh were rewarded with crimson rivulets. Even as this strange figure did so, an acrid flavor emptied the houshi's own mouth of all other tastes but this one, the salty tang of life, blood, dripping from his own, human sized canines in perfect sync to that falling from the other's finger. In astonishment, the houshi realized that not a single drop of his captor's blood had come so far as any length closer to the ground than the finger. Every trace of the life source - which he had begun to question whether its name should be changed instead to death source - disappeared the instant it would have released itself from the continuous stream from its source to the air. And, therefore, fell into his own peculiarly quiescent mouth. Dreading giving any trickle the chance to find a way down his throat, the houshi found he was not given a choice to argue. It fell, not in trickles, but in cascading rivers through passageways hollowed out especially for this job. 

A devilish handsome and devious grin was graced upon him as a hand lifted him up from where he was kneeling in servitude to a new 'master.' Standing without realizing the significance of his previous action, he picked up on the fact that the stranger now no longer even wore the clothes of the supposed innocent one and stood before him now garbed in a single fold of blackened silk. One simple piece, yet more adorned, magnificent, and intricate than any previously viewed piece of robe the houshi had seen. The unique material was twisted up and down, around and through as it created the most stunning piece of craftsmanship the houshi had _ever _seen. 

If only the next interruption had not had to exist, "Now, now, Toy, you'll have plenty of time to admire my attire when I visit you next. For now, we have a deal that is need of proposing." A sinister undercurrent of mock longing carried the monologue, as the other was incapable of movement. "You see, I have for long desired you. Your body? Hah. No. But pleasure is such a simple thing nowadays. Power is so much more...lovely. Finding ourselves a little difficult to agree with are we? Well you must you know. Otherwise I believe the town is in need of a living, breathing, yet, immobile statue nowadays is it not? So enjoy our little conversation wont you? For I hate to make empty, even worse, idle threats, don't you? Well, don't you wish to know my name? After all, I know yours, Aishou, or is it Toy? But, then again, what's in a name? Only a twisted sense of pride, neh? Or no? Naraku. You may call me this. Only this. I do know what you are thinking. No, bastard is not quite...fitting, now, is it? Take a look at your hand now why don't you?"

His nerves were at hell's last stop. He did not think he could stand for another moment the condescension. Nor could he act upon a single thought. His eyes only moved in accordance with the command given him not a second earlier. His eyes would have opened in shock if they could. That bastard! he must have thought for the 247th time. Unable to recognize the exact knowledge that might be found relevant to a small gaping hole in his hand from the recesses of his mind, he had resorted once again to cursing the enemy out.

"Discovered the wind tunnel, the kazanna, have we? My little prized present to you. Enjoy it while you have the chance. Care to test it out? Such a small thing now. Tend to it and care for it and I'm sure it'll grow into a strong, feisty little thing. Don't worry." Oh, would the sarcasm ever end? "Well, I guess I should give you a chance to ask questions before I reveal what's behind the next curtain of my entertaining plot? Ask away." Turning his head to inspect his death-ridden claws, he awaited the presumed question with mock indifference.

"How in all f'cking HELLS do I make this cursed _thing_ go away?! Why did you...?!" He was cut off, mouth frozen in mid-speech by a silent flick of his opponent's hand.

"I should have clarified. Ask one and only one question. And, well how nice of you to ask that one. That was exactly what I was going to talk about next. How kind of you to guess. My proposition? I will remove that tidy little air rip from your hand. For one generation. Yours. Ah, yes. The catch? You swear your next, last, and only son's undying loyalty in servitude to me. You get the opportunity to act as we both know you so desire, and I get a new slave. You don't keep track of your children anyways do you? So its not like you care. Just be careful of the mother." With those last warning words and the promise that he would return another day, preferably the next, the beast Naraku was floated away on a fluttering feather, leaving the Houshi to determine his decision, as if it wasn't obvious enough. What a lovely night. Things were definitely turning up for Naraku.

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	2. 7 Reasons Why

Handed over

7 Reasons Why

Chalix

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_Disclaimer I don't own any characters originally created by Rumiko Takahashi in the Inuyasha manga/anime._

_AN And really? I'm not this hentai...I'm just really trying to put Miroku's father in proper cough Hope you enjoy after the LONG period of absence. Oh yes, and just so know, because I'm obsessed, Youko Kurama WILL be guest appearance-ing later on. A few plot twists here! And yes, before you ask, "WHAT?!"at the end of this chapter, know that it will all be explained to your satisfaction. I hope. AND tell me what you think of what Naraku calls Miroku. I'm not so sure I like that name...but it was spontaneous. If you have any recommendations, tell me! Last note - forgive the short length of this chapter, the next WILL be longer, and come out sooner._

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What a lovely night it _had_ been! Finally, the _real _last innocent. No more, unfortunately. No more innocents and, well, no more innocence for _her_. In no more than two words and he'd had her down on the bed and -

And now, nine whole damn months later, he was staring - not gazing lovingly - _staring_, rather harshly, into the infantile eyes of his day old son, nicknamed Mi-mi by the mother, known as Miroku by the father, and non-existent to the entire rest of the world. Except, of course, to the promised one, by whom he would be called Hi'ichi in private and, spitefully, Miroku in public.

Not that the 'public' was built up of much more than the Western Lord, Sesshoumaru, - and, not to be forgotten, his servants, - Naraku's other pet Torikimi, - who had lived a relatively pleasant life in an unmarked village in complete obscurity until the age of 16 when Naraku had come for him, - and, perhaps, an old accomplice.

Yet the 'public' would not have a chance to greet the poor babe if the houshi didn't give him up first, and so the houshi, sulking, graced the shrine, where he had met Naraku the first time, with his wonderful presence, and that of his child. With only memories, much too recent for his liking, and infantile wails to keep him company, he settled down.

Not for long, however. He was up in no more than three heartbeats to pace around a washing fountain, carrying the babe across his chest.

"_When I visit you next...when I visit you next...when I visit you next..._"

The second visit had come and gone, no more entertaining than the first.

Today was the _next_ next, the day his Miroku would be stolen away. Impatient as he was, the hentai monk waited ever so calmly in cold anticipation, a scowl blemishing his ravishing features for more than a couple reason. A couple was deemed to be two. Two reasons for his fury at the situation? Hah. No. He'd run out of fingers and toes, f'ck that, he'd run out of _hairs _to count the reasons on.

1. Depriving him of sex for that night.

2. Depriving him of sex for maybe _more _than one night.

3. Naraku _had _to use that condescending tone.

4. Stealing his son from him, that bastard.

True, he'd never kept in with past ladies about their affairs or if they'd gotten pregnant. Hell, he could have 27 (or more) sons and never know the difference.

Only thing he would say if asked was that his sons had all better be damned and downright handsome, no matter if they grew up with father or no father. Of course, he had, despite himself, become rather attached to his most recent tyke.

5. Had he mentioned the lack of _sex_?

Ah, a one track mind. Of course. Was that not what all men's minds were composed of? When and where? No need to ask what. Nor why. Who cared.

6. He had been forced to live with a _woman_.

Terrifying as it may have sounded, he had survived. But he did not think he could stand one more day of the ceaseless ranting and raving he found directed towards himself if he so much as looked at another woman.

It didn't stop him. After all, he could out run her any day. He still could have lived without the annoyance.

After all, why _had _Naraku required that he live with the woman? He could have just snuck in on the day it was due and whisked it off to his torturer. This was _not_ just punishment for lustful desires. He wished to kick something.

7. Then, there was the...lack...of...

Oooh! Target practice! One flying Naraku coming right in! He was perfectly aligned and positioned and everything was perfectly set, one swift kick to the -

Oh, but he had forgotten the entire deal where Naraku could freeze frame his entire body. Life was shit.

The houshi was stuck in a ballerina like position, and his foot was starting to ache from balancing on the toe. He couldn't twitch a single blood cell.

"Tch tch tch. Now is that any way for a _man_ to behave? It's really quite, inappropriate for one such as yourself don't you believe so? Ah, so that's the little monster. Oh, did I say monster? Forgive me, I meant to say there's the little tyke soon to _become _a monster. Such promising aspirations! Now, now, hand the little terror over..."

The houshi held out his arms, by force of Naraku, in offering of the babe, wrapped in the colors of his father's profession.

"Kukukuku...you are mine now," his voice dropped to a level which could easily be mistaken for a caring whisper, Naraku spoke to the babe of devilish plots that he would be raised with, a sadistic grin stealing over his features.

Miroku's father's stomach revolted against itself. Naraku, without a single look in his direction nor the slightest snap of his fingers, had wrought the houshi's insides with torment. The revelation that it would be the cause of his death was no new shining light from Kami. He had known. From the first day he had set eyes on his antagonist, he _knew_. Maybe not immediately, Naraku was always one for long lasting torture. He could expect nothing less than a week, nor more than a month of life. If that's what it could be called.

And then, all was missing. Naraku was missing. Miroku was missing. The fountain was missing. The _ground _was missing. A distant part of his conscious whirled confusedly. However, as it was his subconscious that was now in control, all he could feel was relaxation and gratefulness that it was all finally over. Was it not? He vaguely made a wish that it was so.

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Somebody coughed. It was early morning, as was obvious by the gleaming moon shining through the open window. Despite the room being open to the cold, there was no chill draft inspecting his room and sending wicked shivers down his spine.

The cough came again, sounding louder than was normal due to the vast echo of the palace's structure and the otherwise perfect silence it had been uttered into.

Ok, once was bad enough, but twice? Did this person hold no consideration for the Masters of this place?

Miroku sat up, leaning against one of the bed posts and drew up a knee to rest his elbow on as he shook the last vestiges of sleep from his mind and prepared to berate, and possibly more, the perpetrator of the crime. The crime of waking him from his beauty sleep of course.

Stalking out into the hall, it was no surprise to see the two guards placed at his door...fast asleep.

It was not as if he needed the guards, he was well enough off to protect himself from any attack directed towards his person, but one had to keep up image. After all, what despicable, evil villain did not keep guards nearby who were obviously faulty at their jobs and were very good opportunities to practice torture techniques on? Especially youkai ones such as these, as they would heal within days, weeks even if they were hurt enough, and be in PERFECT condition for another round!

It was only with some shock that he came across the best servant of his household as the one who had caused the disturbance. Kanna.

Kagura would have liked him to think it was her, to take the pressure off of Kanna, but Miroku could sense a lie before it was even spoken. Or he was just a good reader of people's actions and reactions to certain events. Either way, he knew what was up.

"My dear, _dear,_ Kanna, come with me. Why don't we get you something for that? So that we shall learn the importance of never waking up Master when he is enjoying his precious sleep? Shall we?" His golden earring swinging and gleaming in the moonlight, he beckoned with a nod of his head and turned to face away, signaling his readiness to return to his chambers. He extended his hand, and she took it without hesitation, knowing that the slightest misstep would earn her a worse punishment.

She may have been obedient to a point that she seemed a mindless robot, but that did not mean she did not think for herself or was stupid. Intelligence could be hidden, if it was never looked for in the first place. She would never give away her position. Guardians must never do that.

With that reminder to herself, she matched his pace as he led her back to his room for a few hours of painful promise. This was her destiny. To protect another, to give more of herself to him that she had of herself to give.

For the moment, she would put aside as much spiritual awareness as was possible, and allow her body to be abused by the one she had been assigned to and who she had grown to love, despite the flaws Naraku had ingrained so deep within, that they had become a part of Miroku.

Kagura should have counted her lucky stars she was not being punished as well for her insubordination, but instead she directed a wounded whimper to the heavens, keen and mournful.

Guardians, young ones even more so, should never be forced to endure such devil treatment.

Kagura did not care that Naraku would be the one to wake this time, and that the punishment would be more severe that simple physical torture, but that of the heart as well. Kagura wished for this punishment in retribution for her lack of protectiveness.

So, she waited. Waited, in the end, for nothing, as Naraku never came. She was sure he knew what she wanted and was purposefully disregarding her wish.

At the same time, her paranoid thoughts suddenly whirled to a halt. If Naraku could read her thoughts, then did he know that Kanna was secretly Miroku's Guardian? And she, Kagura, his?


End file.
